Wednesday’s Object Writing (on time)

So the same exercise again for today… Rainstorm-5min, Counter-10min, Cape-10min, Snow-90sec

Rainstorm on a hot summer day. Cooling it off, the gray clouds in the sky. Dark, ominous. Steam creeping off the pavements, without any noise. Just floating up in a mist. The thunder roars as the lightening lights up the sky. During the storm, the lightening in streaks like trees. The thin line is the trunk, branching out in all directions. & the trees it strikes, as they are the tallest objects. Splitting & burning them with fire! After the storm, silent heat lightening lights the clouds as if a light was switched on behind them.

The counter, Venetian Granite. A sandy color with light & dark flecks sprinkled throughout. Cold, hard. Covered in papers, bills, my cat. A resting place for all things without a designated space. A double sink cut within, filled with dishes. Counters in the bathroom, still venetian white, but here covered in makeup, hair supplies, toothbrushes, & so on. Easy to clean, when you can get to the surface. But counter also means backwards, a clock, time, moving in the wrong direction. Living life in rewind. The opportunity to change all mistakes. But would you? You wouldn’t be who you are if you did. The opposite to one thing. Never food on the counter where it is meant to be, only objects misplaced without a home. Never eat there, rather on the couch. Baking cookies at my parents’ house, laying them out on the counter to ice with our homemade icing. Rolling my sweet, delicious, made from scratch red velvet cinnamon rolls with cream cheese cinnamon icing that take two days to make because you have to let the dough rise. Mixing it in a large green bowl. Rolling it out on the counter with a rolling pin that sticks. Flour is key, but it doesn’t always work. Slathered soon in butter, sugar, & cinnamon before rolled into the oven & baked to perfection.

Cape, not just what magicians & superheroes wear. Also the name of many iconic coastal based cities. Typically on a peninsula. With capes worn around the neck I think first of red, like Quailman. Then of sparkly glittery capes of magicians in top hats, which leads to the magical Herr Drosselmeyer. Making overgrown dolls come to life for the children. Bringing them joy & other gifts, for Clara her precious Nutcracker. I also think of the old fashioned vampires with pale glowing skin, black hair to match their capes with popped collars, red blood trickling down their chin. Back to red we go. Capes on superheroes. A cape is for looks, sure, a special effect, but it can also strangle or get caught on something. Cheesy animated movies with characters that get sucked into plane propellers because of their cape. Back to propellers. Everything is connected, not just in writing, but in life. We are all connected in the “great circle of life.” The planets, the galaxies, all the stars in the universe. All connected by dark matter. Nothing is ever truly alone.

(Snow) My favorite environmental element! So fluffy as it breaks your fall. Allowing tiny snowflakes to scatter themselves about your limp body laying deep in the hole where you jumped into the snow. Snow angels are fun to make!

Tuesday’s Object Writing


So similar to my first object writing exercise (& those for the upcoming days), My first topic, “Curtain” I had 5 minutes  to write on. I got 10 minutes for “Breeze” & “Canyon” each. & I got 90 seconds to write about “Propeller.”


Curtain, silky white & smooth. Long, draping across the top of the window hanging to the ground, where it sits in a puddle. The wrinkles in the fabric, the ripples on a lake. White, but not like the winter snow, no. A softer white maybe ivory even. My black cat sits perched, a contrast to the white. Periwinkle walls. Protection from the outside world, the snoopers, the sunlight. All privacy thieves. Dark at night

Breeze, gently blowing. A dandelion in the wind. It unspools. Tiny specs floating about, what if “Who’s” really did exist? The breeze creates tiny waves, soft sprays of ocean float through the air to gently kiss your face. You taste the salt water. You remember your mother coating you in sunscreen as a child. The bare bottomed baby on the bottle. The breeze, too strong for the tiny birds wings, blown about, all the while fluttering, wondering where it will take him. The breeze blows lightly as you walk through the rain, it’s just a drizzle, but once more blowing tiny raindrops in your face, only this time it isn’t salt water. Nowhere near an ocean now, surrounded by the foggy morning air punctured only by sitka spruce trees in cold wet Washington state. The dandelion has travelled far and wide to get to the other side. From the shores of the Atlantic to the shores of the Pacific spreading seed

Canyon, deep, dark & eerie. What lies beneath these feet. So far down there. Ride a donkey down, packs on it’s back. Bottles of water to cool you down. Stay hydrated on the trek. There’s no water until you reach the river at the bottom. Dirty green water that winds and bends it’s way along the length of the crevice between the cliffs. Eroding the walls down even more. Ever so gradually. Not even noticeable. The walls reddish brown. Like rusted iron. Not made of clay though. The floor of the basin the same color. The color complimentary to the dirty green water. Crossing the color wheel, the full spectrum. Looking up, the primary color blue. Cyan-not like the pepper powder, which is spelled cayenne. Like deep in the ocean, the mind untangles. Unravelling it’s power, lost. Relaxed

Propeller, spinning, round & round. It goes down beneath the ocean or high into the sky. Don’t get to close because slice & dice you it will! Even sitting still. Dangerous to all, but put to good use

1st Day of Object Writing

So I started a new writing class & the first thing we are doing is object writing. I had to write on “Feather” for 5 minutes “Roses” & “Wrench” for 10 minutes each, & “Balloon” for 90 seconds. This is what I came up with:


Feather. Light & fluffy. Soft & sweet. I hear the bird chirping tweet tweet tweet. Does the bird know it’s lost it’s feather? The feather takes flight drawing with it the animal it is attached to. The feather, gray, & cold. Dead it is. The feather curved and smooth like the edge of the earth. The horizon it flies towards. Floating in the air. Lifeless, but yet alive in so many ways. Found on the ground lying alone. Drying from it’s separation. Separating. Losing itself
Roses. Colorful. All in a row. From a bush they grow. Yellow, Red, pink, white. Even the black one in plain sight. But what do they mean, these colors? They smell so fresh. I’d like to pick one. Place it behind my ear to hold back my hair. Pretty they grow alive and untouched. But if touched they die, turning brown. Shriveling up. Drying out. No longer a part of the circle of life. Thorns so prickly I am scared to touch them. I fear the pain & I don’t want to bleed. But when cut right, beheld with beauty. They hold life inside. Not just the plant. Tiny bugs they crawl inside this magnificent bud they probably conceive as the world. Earth as it is alive also. A tiny bud in this vast universe. Soon it will die because touched it has been, by grimy hands. Picked clean of the last living things. The rose colors are the different planets the bush the Milky Way. Does the rose know it will die? Do plants feel life? Do they see the future? A marvelous home for small critters to rome.

A wrench in my toolbox. Hard made of metal. Lifeless yet strong. Stronger than my bones, which are fragile, they break. The metal feels cold and stiff, clearly not a living thing. No feelings. Just atoms strung together. Covalent bonds formed. Take life it can in it’s firm grasp. Wrapped hands around a bolt. Twisting turning, pulling things tighter, or taking them apart. Rusty and jagged or fresh & smooth. Covered in oil in the master mechanics hands. Useless in mine. Creations it makes. Or destroy things it might. Silver not gold, new is better than old. Thud it makes as it clanks to the ground. Landing on toes. Smashing them into the ground, ouch! Dangerous to the child in whose hands it fits not. Crushing objects. Useful it is, when handled by the right person. I see my reflection in it’s handle. it turns

Balloon, red with a long string attached. It flies so high so light & free. I wish it could take me. Soaring into the sky. Higher than birds, like a plane. I hear the pop as it gets too close to the sun like Icarus. Pieces float softly to the ground. Red dead.


The Spark Inside

One day, whether you

are 14,


or 65

you will stumble upon

someone who will start

a fire in you that cannot die.

However, the saddest,

most awful truth you will

ever come to find—

is they are not always

with whom we spend our lives.

-Beau Taplin

This quote could not be more accurate to my life right now! This week has been both the best week of my life & the worst week of my life wrapped into one, all due to one person. Here are just a few of my own personal sentiments for how I feel about it…

You’re in my  heart, you’re on my mind,

maybe that could be a sign.

Not that thing, you took to be,

when you left me.

That was a false alarm,

brought on by too much fire.

We pushed too hard, we rushed too soon,

should’ve let things happen naturally.

We made mistakes, but I wish you could see,

that doesn’t mean we weren’t meant to be.

Those gut feelings, that first glance,

I wish you would give us a real chance.

Those feelings are true, what I meant to you

baby don’t push them away.

You say you don’t deserve happiness,

but no one is meant to be alone.

I hope this phase comes to pass,

I wish you’d pick up the phone.

You swore you’d fight for me, 

now baby let me fight for you!

~Kimily Trehern


Daily writing #2

So I would like to start by saying that I have uploaded all of the official photos from the MAC state pageant to be sure to go check them out & don’t forget to like the page while you’re there for continued updates!

Second, don’t forget to check out my good friend Rachael’s blog and remember that her new e-book is available at

Now, for todays daily writing I chose to do another of one of Rachael’s ideas. I am going to talk about how some song lyrics relate to my life right now. I actually just googled a song to go with a situation I’m in & I think the first one that popped up fits PERFECTLY! I cut out some of the repetition of the chorus, but here are the lyrics to the Hoobastank song, “Running Away.”


“I don’t want you, to give it all up

And leave your own life, collecting dust

And I don’t want you, to feel sorry for me

You never gave us, a chance to be


And I don’t need you, to be by my side

To tell me, that everything’s alright

I just wanted you, to tell me the truth

You know I’d do that for you


So why are you running away?

Why are you running away?


Cause I did enough, to show you that I

Was willing to give, and sacrifice

And I was the one, who was lifting you up

When you thought your life had had enough


And when I get close, you turn away

There’s nothing that I can do or say

So now I need you, to tell me the truth

You know I’d do that for you


Is it me, is it you?

Nothing that, I can do

To make you, change your mind – no


So why are you running away?

Why are you running away? (what is it, I have to say)


So why are you running away? (to make you admit, you’re afraid)

Why are you running away?”


You don’t have to continue reading if this post has gotten too long for you, I am just going to use this as an opportunity to vent basically. Perhaps the lyrics spoke to you & you just need to know that you are not the only one in your position. 

Basically, this is something I have been dealing with, the guy I am interested in has decided to run away from all that our relationship offered him. & just like the song says, don’t feel sorry for me, I believe that, he’s the one I feel sorry for never giving us a real chance, he has no idea what all he’s missing. 

& I don’t need him to sit & lie to me saying things are going to be okay when I know that is not true, his silence is hurting me more than his honesty. He hasn’t officially told me he wants to end things & if he does he needs to be up front with me & say that rather than continuing to string me along like he is. Honesty is ALWAYS the best policy, whether you think the other person wants to hear what you have to say or not. 

I understand that my guy has not had many people really be there for him in his life, for example he hasn’t seen his mom since he was about 3 months old. To him people aren’t reliable & I get that, but I really thought I had done enough to prove that I was different, I wanted to be a permanent fixture. At the same time I told him I would never try to hold him back & I have absolutely no interest in suffocating him, yet he is still running away. We are already long distance & he is moving even farther away rather than closer to me. He told me if we were in the same place he would fall in love with me. So does that scare him? Is that why he’s moving away rather than stay or come closer? I wish he could learn to trust. Me. & himself.

I know I can’t change his mind though, he’s hardheaded & stubborn just like I used to be. So I’m not going to try, I know he needs to figure things out on his own, just like I had to do for myself. 

There’s a lot more to the story I am not going to share to the general public, but I do know he is scared & he is running, just like in this song & I just want to know, “What is it, I have to say… to make you admit, you’re afraid?”